


summer haze (and sick days)

by astralcities



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Families of Choice, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Sickfic, it does /not/ go into major detail abt it! it's not graphic i promise, major character death for. obviously what the descrip says!, teen for the fuck word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralcities/pseuds/astralcities
Summary: Taako had never asked Kravitz how he'd died.





	summer haze (and sick days)

  
There’s a time, not long after they paint the spare room Angus’s favorite shade of blue and tack up glow in the dark constellations on the ceiling, that an illness sweeps their neighborhood.

It’s nothing serious— just a little flu. Magnus gets it, and Taako ends up getting badgered into crossing the street to bring him soup every day for a week. He’s barely even sniffling.

Angus gets hit a tad harder. After checking the kid’s forehead with the palm of his hand (a little warm), Taako determines that they don’t even need to drag Merle over, not that they can count on the planet’s shittiest cleric to perform healing spells anyway. Taako dumps Angus into the bed Magnus carved for him, sets a pot of soup on the stove, and smothers him in blankets. All while keeping up his pretense of not giving a shit, of course. No need to give him anything to be cocky about. He takes care of him, and Angus smiles through his jabs and grumbling. Kravitz doesn’t help. Skirts around them, actually. Makes up excuses to not be home, zips off into a portal even though he’d told Taako just a bit ago he was off work tonight. This shouldn’t really come as a surprise, but it does regardless, and it sends a bullet of mild hurt ricocheting through his heart.

Kravitz isn’t terrible with kids, especially not with one as bright as Angus. He’s kind and gentle, and humors his incessant questions, and makes sure he’s alright when Taako’s teasing goes a smidge too far. But his contact with mortals hadn’t typically gone further than slicing up souls with his scythe before he’d met them, from what he tells Taako. He can be too formal, too stiff, too unsure to comfort Angus when he’s upset, and too new in the ways of the living to understand how children work. And yeah, Taako isn’t the poster-boy for stellar parenting either, but this whole mentoring gig isn’t too bad, actually. Kinda nice knowing Angus is safe, won’t ever have to be shunted between unwilling relatives, or pick up his meals from traveling roadside acts. Besides, they’ve got the whole “it takes a village” thing going on, too. Lup and Barry are always thrilled to have him over, Magnus is ecstatic to have a pseudo little brother, and Carey and Killian are always ready to give him impromptu defense classes whenever he’d like. It’s not like Taako’s his only guardian, and therefore forcing Kravitz to be an involuntary step-parent or some shit.

Which is why he hadn’t understood Kravitz’s reasons for going to such lengths to avoid contact with Angus. It’s not like the Grim-fucking-Reaper is in danger of catching a minor cold, after all. He’s, well, he’s dead as shit, and there’s really no changing that.

Angus can tell something is up— he _is_  the World’s Greatest Detective, even when confined to the house for forty-eight hours and counting. Regardless, he doesn’t seem too bothered. The amount of attention he’s received over a little fucking _cold_  is probably a hell of a lot more than he’s used to anyway.

“You should talk to him,” Angus suggests, his tired eyes brightening when Taako enters the room.

“Sure, kiddo,” Taako replies, only half hearing him as he tosses a new book into Angus’s lap.

He doesn’t think on the exchange until that night, when Kravitz emerges from a rippling portal into their bedroom. He changes slowly, and Taako’s fingers tap out an anxious rhythm on the bedpost as he waits. He runs a quick hand through his hair, faltering as he moves through the motions of preparing for bed.

Tonight, he doesn’t lower the illusion that blankets his features.

When Kravitz emerges, Taako strains to put on his most winning smile, angling his legs to reveal perfect honeyed skin under his pajama shorts. The motions are forced tonight. Foreign.

Kravitz doesn’t spare him a glance as he sits, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

It’s quiet.

Neither of them sleeps, and the tension that digs into Taako’s skin pulls him to slip under the covers, if only to break the silence with the familiar sound of rustling sheets and the hiss of extinguished flame.

A cricket chirps outside and soft dusk light peers through the window, illuminating Kravitz’s head in a wreath of blue light. His eyes are closed, and Taako notes that his dreadlocks, splayed against the pillow, smell like Taako’s strawberry shampoo. For all the time he spent cleaning up before bed, his hair is unkempt, and stubble interrupts smooth skin.

His chest rises in shallow breaths, and Taako reaches out to brush the tips of his fingers against his cheek in an unasked question. Kravitz’s breathing slows, tension leeching from his shoulders. Taako feels almost as if he’s absorbed the strain himself.

“It took me eight days,” Kravitz says, his voice soft with memories of pain. Taako can guess the story without even hearing it. “He’s so much smaller. Weaker.” His voice breaks, and Taako can feel how the thick summer air could wrap Kravitz’s throat like the sickness, how the damp sheets could dredge up memories of shivering and sweat, of the stench of death and fear.

Taako swallows the bile that rises in his throat. “He’s gonna be fine. By tomorrow, he’ll be up and investigating again. And he’s gonna want to know why you’re being chicken shit around him.” He doesn’t know how to handle an emotional Kravitz; fuck, he can’t even handle his _own_  feelings. So he jokes, prays Kravitz will laugh and Taako can forget the contents of this conversation, and their house can go back to its regularly scheduled programming.

Maybe not ‘forget’. He doesn’t have the greatest track record where that’s involved.

Kravitz’s only response is to shift over, distancing himself from Taako, whether consciously or not, he isn’t sure. Taako reaches up and tentatively twists their fingers together. “He’ll get better,” Taako whispers, holding tight to his hand in a last-ditch effort to provide _some_ form of comfort to the man who deserves so much more than he can give.

There’s a brief pause, the only noise the buzzing and chirping of the bugs that emerge in multitudes this time of year, and the stale wind rustling the leaves outside their open window. It should be calming. Lulling.

It isn’t.

“I won’t,” Kravitz says in that too-soft tone, the one that makes something in Taako’s gut twist and turn.

Taako grips his hand like a vise, even as they both fall asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please leave a comment if you enjoyed i love love feedback! also published on my fic writing blog where things are put up more frequently. pm me for a link here or on my tumblr main, @astralcities!


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